“There’s no one to take care of you now. You’re the only one who can take care of yourself.”
Thanks. That opens up a bright and shining ray of hope. Really. No, caring for myself is easy, don’t worry. I like being strong and independent all the time. Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I think I’m cured.
Okay, I’m being too harsh, I know. She’s actually a good sort, and I think most of the “ouch” comments she made were things I needed to hear, because, really, they’re true. All she’s doing is saying them out loud. And maybe a verbal ass-kicking is what I need to knock me out of this depression. If that fails, she said we could always “talk to a psychiatrist about other options” (read: “get you some Prozac”).
However, in the hopes of moving closer to the warm, fuzzy feelings, I’ll be responding to a call from Mrs. Chicky sometime tomorrow. Yeah, that’s right - tomorrow. Three days in a row of posts. Feeling down in the dumps has always been good for prompting an outpouring of blog posts / journal entries (from way back in the day when I had my online journal posted on my university webspace) from me, so maybe posts will be more frequent for a while. I have a bad feeling that this is going to mean a drastic cutting back in the comments sections, huh? Can you keep up with the mad new blogging pace? Can we stay above our current average of three comments per post? Can your comments break me from my funk?
The answer to that last one is almost certainly no, but I’d love to see you prove me wrong…